


A Bid Above

by InnerSpectrum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blind Date, First Kiss, Fluff, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 04:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Greg looses a bet with Sally and begrudgingly agrees to participate in an auction for charity. But his heart is secretly yearning for a bid with a certain someone.





	A Bid Above

Detective Lestrade sat as far back in the rear of the stage as he could. He tried not to hear the cheers and yells and whistles that breached the curtained walls. He can’t believe he allowed himself to be bamboozled into this. No, bamboozled is not fair. Donovan won the bet fair and square. Sally wagered Sherlock Holmes would look at the crime scene, get angry and leave. Lestrade wagered the curly haired genius would get angry, but would still stay and solve it. Sherlock walked onto the crime scene declared it a four at best, thus not worth his time and then lit into Anderson something fierce before he left in a swirl of coat and curl, case unsolved.

And just like that Greg had lost.

_Damned idiot genius chooses that night of all night to choose to be the idiot part of his name._

Greg still was not sure who he wanted to punch more that night; Sally's smugness or Sherlock’s surly.

All of which was a moot point now for here he was.

He told himself, yet again, it was for a good cause. The Alf Dubs Children’s Fund, administered by Citizens UK's Safe Passage is supporting work to help child refugees to access safe and legal routes to protection, and help them begin to rebuild their lives once they reach safety was a charity close to Greg's heart.

While he had suggested the charity, he had no intention of being one of the participants. He lost the bet and this was the price he paid - waiting his turn to walk out on stage, strut his stuff, be ogled over and shipped off to the highest bidder.

“Greg, it’s just a dinner. You can go back to pining for your mystery person once it’s over.” Sally sat beside him on the bench. Sally who knew him well had figured out recently that Greg had his eye on someone. Regrettably, that someone was someone who barely knows he exists. She’s tried hard to figure it out, but has not had any luck and Greg will not tell her who unknowingly holds and unintentionally breaks his heart. It was one of the reasons she got him into this.

Were it left up to him he would have worn jeans, a button down, a blazer and loafers. Sally secured his appearance by picking him up at home. When he opened the door and she saw his chosen outfit she face-palmed so hard it left a mark for ten minutes. As the mark faded she made him change clothes. Twenty minutes later he left his flat in one of his better navy suits. One that set off the crisp white button down shirt and bluish-silver cross hatched tie with a slight sheen and matching pocket square perfectly. Black patent leather tasseled loafers, a black leather belt with sedate silver buckle, socks the same blue as the tie and his heavy silver serpentine bracelet “for good luck” which he insisted on wearing completed the outfit. That was over two hours ago. He has since taken off the jacket and draped it over a chair. His top two buttons were open with the tie loose around his neck, his sleeves were neatly rolled up to the elbows.

Sally nodded her approval, “It’s more you. Leave it.”

“So, Boss, you ready?”she teased, a gleam in her eyes that was as much support as it was instigator. “Orson got £4500 and he’s got a dozen years on you.”

“Daly racked up £7800 and he’s a dozen younger. What’s your point?” He snorted.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade? You’re next.” An attendant called from the curtain. Greg stood and approached the front as a prisoner to his execution.

“Please, Kirk Daly is a jerk. I almost feel sorry for the woman who won that bid. You’ve been on the telly, you are going to kick arse, Boss. Just go out there and wiggle yours.” Sally adjusted his blazer collar and gave him a playful swat on the bum.

_Oh no she did NOT!_

“You know I hate you so much right now, ya?” He shook his head. He automatically started to run his hand through his hair, but Sally grabbed the hand to keep him from mussing his hair, again.

“Pah, I know you love me.” Sally stood behind him peeking around to look through the space in the curtains, grinning like a loon. Every warning sign within him went up as Katherine, the police commissioner’s wife, serving as MC for the event began his introduction.

“And in the vein of saving the best for last, here he is! You’ve seen this rugged face grace your papers. Seen the face and heard that gravelly voice on the telly. As the copper to suggest tonight’s charity, he vows to help save refugee children begin safe lives as he has sworn to protect the streets of London and our lives. Let’s hear it for Detective Inspector Gregory Michael Lestrade!”

_Too late to run now._

Sally gave him a little push, then ducked aside just at the curtains parted and there he was. He had no choice but to step out now into the spot light . The cat calling was stupendous as he walked out onto the stage.

“Yes, feast your eyes on this! 178 centimeters of pure silver fox.” Katherine, standing at a podium off to his left, continued her colorful commentary of his attributes. He walked the pattern told to him earlier as he went left and kissed Katherine on the cheek. He gave salutations and thanks to the audience for the money raised and how he looked forward to adding his humble share to the coffers with their enthusiastic help. In his nervousness he left his jacket at the podium with Katherine. Having nothing else to do with his hands he thumbed the front belt loops as he took center stage and stopped for a moment before heading down the steps created in the center and walking down the make-shift runway.

He knows without a doubt Sally submitted the bio requested because not one word spoken was one he wrote. “Don’t let his kind heart and quiet demeanor fool you. He is a rough and tumble man all the way. Just ask the criminals he has chased down the streets London and caught over the years of service. Then ask his football opponents who have fallen prey to the _Lestrade Leap_ , patent pending mind you. They can attest to his prowess.”

He really hoped he was not as red in the face as he felt listening to his accolades.

On a screen off to the right side was a montage of photos. Most of them decent shots taken at NSY, a few from press conferences, a couple on the field in his football uniform – which generated a new wave of catcalls as they showed some of his arms and legs.

_Oh dear god I am going to KILL her!_

While on the stage the spot light had partially blinded him. Everyone seated was mostly shadowy heads. As he walked the runway he was a little below its glare and he could make out the faces of those that sat in the front rows and along the runway. Quite a few women and a couple of men winked or whistled at him. As much as he did not want to admit it, the open admiration felt a little good.

No, it felt _very good_ to an ego that had been very self-depreciating as of late.

Music played in the back ground. Mostly 80's and 90's pop tunes. Not enough to be distracting, but enough to make one at least move their heads to the rhythm as many in the audience were doing while they participated. As Greg walked back to the stage Taco’s “Puttin’ on the Ritz” was playing. The man who walked back up the runway was now having a little more fun as he pretended to do a little soft shoe to the music while he climbed the stairs to the stage again. The hands in trouser pockets with a little hip swivel as a finish was met with much appreciation by the audience.

“Let’s start the bid at….” Katherine barely got out the words when a woman’s voice chimed out.

“£1000.”

_That was already double the initial starting bid for the other auctions and it just got started? Oh boy!_

“Do we hear…?” Katherine began again, and again she was gut off.

“£2000!”

“£2500!”

“£2800!”

“£3000!”

“£3200!”

Greg squinted trying to see the faces of the bidders. Katherine looked to Greg and shrugged as the bidding took a life of its own for a moment. Once it reached £6500 Greg could see the bidding was now between two women. A blond in her 50s and a woman in her thirties with purple-hair, wearing glasses. He had the feeling she was on her Bluetooth as she bid. Greg was back to being embarrassed, yet pleased as punch at the thought of being bid on blindly via phone. The bid war finally slowed at £8500.

_Christ almighty!_

Katherine finally got a full prompt out: “Do we have £8600?”

The blond woman’s mouth slowly gaped as she stared at the screen showing his photos. The expression on the woman with the purple hair was the epitome of _Oh my!_ as she spoke quickly through her Bluetooth. The audience broke out into a series of wild wolf whistles and catcalls.

_No! Oh no! Not THAT picture!_

“Oh yes! I almost forgot about this last minute addition to the photo montage. Clearly, we have not needed the incentive for the handsome detective inspector, but here is a little something for inspiration.” Katherine’s grin when he looked to her was all forms of lecherous.

_Oh yes, Sally Donovan you are going to DIE!_

It was the swimming pool photo, he knew it without looking. His sister and her family were visiting from Dumfries. They were staying at a hotel with an interior pool. He had promised his five-year-old nephew he’d go swimming with them, so he did. He had not counted on his preteen niece capturing him as said nephew taught him how to _do the dab_.

There he was larger than life. Caught dead to rights dabbing in all his form fitted swim trunks glory. Greg blushed profusely, but if the audience reaction was any indication there was no need.

_In for a pence, in for a pound- right?_

He did not bother to turn around as he replicated the pose down to the expression, much to the delight of the audience.

“£10,000!” was heard crisp and clear. A collective gasp went across the floor of the highest bid of the night.

It was the blond haired woman. If looks truly could kill the woman with the purple hair would have lain the blond to waste from the intensity of her glare. There was a slight pause, but before Katherine could ask...

“£25,000!”

“WHAT?!”

The exclamation came from several voices. Greg was too stunned to speak as all eyes turned to the solitary voice holding up a number placard. The purple-haired woman’s face all but said “Bitch don’t try me!” to the blond who wisely shook her head in the negative. She had no counter offer.

“Holy shite!” Sally Donovan’s shock was heard loud and clear from behind the curtain.

Katherine recovered enough to return to the business at hand.

Greg beamed.

There was not a thing you could have possibly told him in that moment as he put his hands together and bowed to the purple-haired woman in thanks. She inclined her head in turn as she spoke into her Bluetooth. Greg realized it was not a true blind auction for she wore glasses that had a camera in the frame. Whoever it was saw the photo and reacted accordingly. He was now very curious as to who deemed him worthy of such an expense. Katherine pretended to fan herself when he made his way back to retrieve his blazer and then smoothly dangle it from a couple of fingers over his shoulder as he returned to center stage.

Katherine had the other participants return to the stage for a final bow. Greg had totally forgotten the traditional of crowning the highest bid of the night until Katherine came before him and place the gold paper crown on his head.

“Oh, something tells me you are not going to be single for much longer, inspector!” She whispered in his ear as she placed the crown at a roguish angle which suited him just fine. Greg gave his thanks to all the participants for the cause and Katherine closed out the auction part of the event, turning the remainder of the night to party time.

“Boss! You absolutely killed it!” Sally met him on the floor minutes later.

“It's just a dinner, all in good fun and all for a good cause.” Greg smiled as she handed him a much-desired drink. He knows Sally knew he would have preferred a beer, but in light of the event she continued to keep him classy with a couple of fingers of scotch instead. He’d take it.

“Come on you know you want to preen.” Sally laughed at his semi-false modesty.

“Ya, I do.” He admitted with a wide grin.

“As well he should!” Katherine came up to them, “I checked the ledgers and congratulations Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. At £25,000 you are now the record holder of _A Bid Above_ the highest bid of this event in the fifteen years we've held it. You beat out the previous record holder by £3000! That was three years ago.”

“Wasn't that the year with that rock musician?” Sally gasped.

“The very one.” Katherine confirmed, “This silver fox is worth more than a rock star. And I bet he did not want to get up there tonight did he? I admit I was surprised to see your name on the list.”

“I lost a bet.” Greg pretended to pout as he flicked his eyes to a giggling Sally and took a sip of his drink.

“Your loss was the charity’s gain Lestrade.” Katherine laughed gaily. “Ah, here we are! DI Lestrade? Let me introduce you to your future dinner date, Michelle Alejandra Denise Henderson of Henderson Designs.”

Greg turned to the woman. She had a heart shaped face, full lips and slate colored eyes. Petite, but her clearly bespoke suit showed her figure to nice affect. Her hair fell in an ombre that was black at the roots and graduated through a rich eggplant hue to a near lilac at the tips. It was becoming. She was definitely someone he might have asked out were his heart not still hoping for the impossible dream.

“Thank you so very much for your contribution.” He took the woman’s hand and brought the manicured fingers to his lips. “It was exceedingly generous to the charity and I admit, to my self-confidence.”

Sally wisely looped an arm around Katherine’s arm and led the woman away. Greg and Michelle smiled at their less than subtle departure.

“So, may I be so bold as to ask the name of the person with whom I will share a dinner, Ms. Henderson?”

“And how do you know it’s not me?” She grinned.

“You heard the commissioner’s wife bio of me.” Greg tilted his head in the direction of the departing women, “I am one of the top-ranking detective inspectors in London. I detect quite well, thank you. And while I’m still not the very best at seeing things, I’ve learned a thing or two about observation from my associates.”

“Point made, detective. Your date is…let’s say intrigued with you in the extreme. The identity of whom you will learn on next Thursday for regretfully they are currently out of town on business and cannot arrange anything before then.” She held out a business card, “If you have any questions that does not involve your date’s name, occupation, likes, dislikes, family etc. Feel free to call.”

Greg looked at the impressive heavy stock, semi-gloss card with her initials on one side and her number on the other, nothing else.

_Her private number then, not her business._

“I do have a question since it is not in any of the items covered in your list.”

“Yes?” She raised an amused brow.

“Male or female?”

“Does it matter?”

“Honestly no.” He answered without hesitation “But one can’t fault a guy for asking.”

“No one can’t.” She conceded with a slight smile of approval as she indicated the glasses she wore, “They are gone now, but let’s just say when the swim photo appeared there was a very positive reaction and the increased price was a bit shouted in my ear when that blond raised the ante. I’ve a feeling they were quite prepared to go much higher if need be.”

Greg laughed as he sipped his drink then winked directly into the camera he saw on the glasses he knew was still broadcasting, “They are not gone, but nice try. Thank you, my benefactor. It is a wonderful charity and I look forward to dinner with you.”

Michelle laughed, then paused as she listened to the voice in her Bluetooth earpiece, then relayed the message. “Your benefactor insists the pleasure is and hopefully will continue to be theirs. You will be contacted in a couple of days with further information. Goodnight inspector.” She turned and walked away in a flounce of curls and curves.

Sally was back by his side barely a minute later. “Well?”

“Let’s just say I no longer want to kill you, but I am going to have a talk with my sister for giving you that damned photo.” Then he simply gave her a Cheshire smile and said nothing else regarding the date for the rest of the night.

However, for the rest of the night and the next couple of days Greg could not help but torture himself with “What if?” He gave thought to various females and a couple of males as his potential date. He knew he could make use his resources and find a copy of the auction list. It would answer his questions, but it would take the sport and mystery out of it. Mostly, he let himself fantasize that the person on the other end of the Bluetooth was the person occupying his mind of late.

* * *

  
Three days later an invitation to The Gala was hand delivered to him at the office. Hand delivered to him in a special Plexiglas case.

_The Gala. Holy shite!_

The hand engraved envelope and calligraphy of the invitation looked as expensive as he knew The Gala to be. The Gala was a premier event the called to the crème de la crème at the top of the crème de la crème at the top. Seating to the event started at four digits. Every instinct in Gregory’s body knew his seats were going to be somewhere that was more likely five digits.

And he Gregory Lestrade had a free invite in his hands. He was going to _The Gala_.

Sally was nearly unbearable as she tried to glean information he himself did not have to give as she tried to guess the identity of his date.

Greg took one look at the invite and knew even his best suit was not going to cut it for this. So, he begged a boon of Sherlock to come with him to a department store for something better. Knowing the man’s good taste and pride, the genius would ensure he looked good. However, he did not count on the man being stubborn and absolutely refused to step foot in anything resembling a standard store. Sherlock scribbled an address on a sheet of paper and handed it to him with the instructions to “Be there tomorrow at 11.”

It was Mycroft Holmes who stepped out of the sedan the next morning. Greg wondered just how cruel could Fate be to have him of all people be the one to get him all suited up and kitted out. Worse, they were in the establishment from which he and Sherlock have their suits made. When Greg saw the cost of one shirt he nearly ran. Mycroft sensing his burgeoning panic grabbed him by the sleeve and convinced him to stay.

Greg saw an off-the-peg tuxedo in his size. He had enough to purchase it where it would not put a major hole in his funds and insisted on trying it on. Mycroft had stepped out to make a call when Greg stepped out of the dressing room in it. Mr. Lorenzo, Mycroft’s and Sherlock’s personal tailor froze at the sight of him. Greg turned crimson at the desire that flared in the man’s eyes.

“God, I hope the man that doesn’t yet know I’m enamored of him looks at me like that someday.” The words slipped out of Greg’s mouth before he could stop himself. “Sorry.”

Mr. Lorenzo gave him a considered look. “Mr. Lestrade, whoever he is tell him and tell him now. Take it from an old man who has let too much pass by. Life is short. Too short. You need to tell him how you feel. He needs to see you in this. I just need to fix a couple of places, this can be perfect and ready for you by Thursday morning.”

Lorenzo had clearly said something to Mycroft when he returned from his call as Greg redressed. The Iceman insisted on treating him to the tuxedo. “Consider it a drop in the bucket as payment for putting up with my baby brother all these years, please!”

The tuxedo was delivered Thursday morning. The moment he took it out of the travel bag he gasped. It was not the tuxedo he had tried on, but something bespoke. The off-the-peg tuxedo was lovely on him. This was so much more. The black wool blend had a contrast black sateen shawl collar that was elegant. Black velveteen fabric, with grey Victorian style Damask printed floral patterns adorned the waistcoat. The modern u-cut waistcoat and coordinating bow tie, contrasted beautifully with the stark crispness of the tradition white tuxedo shirt. Almost none of it was something he would have ever picked for himself, but even he knew he was going to look damned good in it. His black patent tasseled loafers, silver New Scotland Yard cuff links and of course his silver luck bracelet finished everything off.

Silver hair trimmed and freshly shaved even Greg had to admit he cut am impressive figure as he admired himself in the mirror. He thought about the conversation between him and Mr. Lorenzo as he waited to be picked up.

He took a few selfies, picked the one he liked best and put it in a text message.

A few days ago, a wise tailor told me Life is short. Too short. Honestly, I’d much rather it was you seeing me in this in person tonight. – GL

His thumb hovered over the _Send_ button for a very long time before he pressed it. Then he waited.

The mobile rang moments later as he knew it would.

“Gregory. First let me say you look as ungodly handsome as I knew you world.” Mycroft spoke. Greg’s heart raced as he tried not to drop the mobile. “Second. I’m complemented, but - and I do not say this often - I am a little confused. Are you _coming on to me_ as they say?”

“I’m sorry. I should have done this in person, but Lorenzo’s in my head and I’m all carpe diem right now while I have the nerve and oh god I’m babbling like an idiot.” Greg cringed at himself, but forced himself to continue, “Mycroft here’s the thing. I like you. A lot. I have for a long while now. I was too chicken to say anything because, well… there's you all poshness refined and... then there's me... all East End rough. Still…. I would very much like to ask you out on a date. If I have somehow offended I…”

“Gregory, I would like it very much if you asked me out on a date.” Mycroft cut him off, “I have no problem with East End rough. I would say yes.”

_He would go out on a date with me?! Mycroft Holmes?!_

Greg looked at his mobile stunned as the chance for the impossible dream to become reality overwhelms him.

“Gregory?”

“Oh yes! Still here. Still wishing you were my date tonight at The Gala instead of some stranger.” Greg admitted, not still believing his luck.

“I think you should meet your date for the night, Gregory.” Mycroft said smoothly.

“I will be nice, but I will be wishing they were you.” Greg said honestly.

Greg nearly jumped when his doorbell rang almost simultaneously as the mobile buzzed again.

I very much would like to see you in that tux in person. I think it can be arranged. – MADH

_MADH? Those are the initials of the purple-hair woman from the auction._

_Oh, Christ what have I done?! Did I send it to the wrong person?_

Greg was still looking at the mobile when he opened the door.

“Oh! No wonder Lorenzo insisted I get you into this bespoke tuxedo.”

Mycroft stood before Greg resplendent in his own tuxedo, with his mobile in hand. And yes he stared at Greg with much open appreciation and desire. There was no denying the heat in the Iceman's eyes that looked him over.

“Mycroft you look stunning!” Greg blinked and then grinned as it all came together. “Michelle Alejandra Denise Henderson, I presume? Purple hair is another Anthea?”

“I prefer Mycroft Alexander David Holmes, naturally.” Mycroft inclined his head. “And yes she is.”

“I’ll be damned. Your brother deduced me and sent you to take me shopping?” Greg shook his head at the realization as he took a step back and ushered Mycroft in.

“Yes and no. He was curious to know who would spend so much on you and if they were worthy of the effort you were willing to make for it. He found the auction list and knew it was me who won the date. When I spoke to him that evening after shopping with you, he gave me a similar speech as Lorenzo gave you. I had to remind him about tonight.” Mycroft passed him and Greg closed the door.

“In a totally Sherlock way, did he just give his approval?” Greg took a step to Mycroft.

“You know I think he did.” Mycroft took a step to Greg. “He is never going to stop talking about this.”

“True. So, let’s give him something to talk about.” Greg raised a brow already tilting his head for a kiss.

“Indeed.” Mycroft concurred already tilting his.

Fifteen minutes later both mobiles ping with a message.

“Sherlock.” Breathless, the two men pull apart and groaned the name simultaneously.

His nibs says red carpet pictures in twenty minutes or he’s interrupting. You’re wasting money where you are.  – JW

Whatever that means. – JW

Greg happily pulled Mycroft into another kiss to waste a little more.

<><><><><><><><><><>

(Because, like Sally, I could not resist!)


End file.
